"Sprechen sie Deutsch?"
"Ya; ein wenig; nicht fiel," replied the man, a gleam of sunshine lighting up his face, when the difficulty seemed to be solved.
But his knowledge of German was exceedingly limited, though after several blunders he brought the lunch and coffee which the surgeon ordered. The feast consisted of the same "snack" which is served in Sweden—little fishes, thin slices of sausage, and of salmon, and the inevitable sandwich of caviar, or fish spawn. As in Sweden, the coffee was excellent; but none of the party had yet conquered their repugnance to the slimy caviar. When they had about finished the lunch, the attentive waiter appeared with half a dozen dishes of veal cutlets.
"What have you there?" asked the surgeon.
"Kalbfleisch,"—which means veal,—replied the waiter.
"I did not order it."
"Ja, mein herr."
"No; I said kalt Fleisch," added the doctor; and Paul laughed heartily, though this was only a specimen of the blunders the man made.
The surgeon had called for kalt Fleisch, or cold meat, and the first word is not unlike Kalb.